Spyro Fan Fiction ❯ Together ❯ Revelation and Crucifixion ( Chapter 9 )

Chapter Nine: Revelation and Crucifixion
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Spyro was in darkness. And throughout that darkness, he could hear laughter, a giddy, yet evil laughter.

 

As he groaned to life, he heard a voice.

 

“He's stirring, my lord.”

Slowly, his eyes opened to blurred visions. As he blinked twice from a sudden light dimming over him, his visions became focused to find a few small silhouettes standing on the opposite sides of a large silhouette.

 

To the purple dragon's factor, the small silhouettes were probably the armored apes while the large one hidden in the shadows a mid-feet away became a mystery to him.

 

`What…?' His thoughts wondered before he inspected his surroundings.

 

He was in a partially isolated room. To his horror and shock, he could see weapons that aren't use for defense, but to perform the most heinous acts of savagery known to creatures of the realms.

 

Spyro swallowed saliva down his throat to extinguish the fear in his very being before a familiar voice has caught his hateful attention.

 

“Ah, the purple dragon awakes.”

 

This was the voice that he heard throughout this fortress. The one he believes is responsible for the raid in the village and the abduction of Glacia.

With a snarl of anger, he spoke.

 

“Where's Glacia, you—“

 

He started to move, but found out that he couldn't. Inspecting his surroundings, he found the reason why. He was shackled to chains up against the wall from his arms and his neck down to his hind legs. Even his wings were widespread and were in the same predicament. The only thing that wasn't chained was his tail, and regardless of that fact, there was no assurance of escape. He also noticed that he was stripped of his only weapon and the bottle of elixir.

 

As he struggled from the ties that bind him regardless of the blood loss from a previous injury that he suffered to his upper chest from a dagger attack, the voice spoke again, which caught Spyro's hateful attention.

 

“No use struggling. Those chains were forged to bind the strongest of dragons, most of all, you. And maybe even a dragoness as well.”

 

Instantly, Spyro issued a gasp of fear upon the comment, which caught the silhouette's notice. Then, the purple dragon's expression turned to heated anger upon not only the comment, but his memory of what he witnessed moments ago before his capture as the silhouette dismissed his henchmen.

 

As the small armored baboons left the area, the silhouette has made its approach a few steps forward while Spyro's expression remained intact.

 

“You have no idea how I longed to see the amount of fear in your eyes.”

 

“And you have no idea how long it'll take me to pry myself from these chains and roast you alive, you sadistic fuck!”

”Sadistic?” The voice questioned before issuing a menacing chuckle from his maw. “Direct your eyes to the looking glass and you tell me who's sadistic.”

 

Spyro's expression slightly loosened to puzzlement upon the comment as the silhouette advanced two steps closer throughout the shadows.

”You see, sadistic is a word for those who harm without mercy. You, my purple victim, are defiantly one of them.”

 

Spyro was taken aback by the comment and immediately got on the defensive.

 

“What the hell are you talking about? I have never killed anyone mercilessly in my entire life.”

Suddenly, the silhouette's left arm was aimed in the purple dragon's direction and before Spyro could take notice, he issued scream of pain from spear impalement to his right hand.

 

As blood splashed from the injury, Spyro started panting from the blood loss while trying to endure the rising, excruciating pain.

 

Doing that time, the silhouette lowered his left wrist and approached another two-step closer.

 

“Lie, Lie, Lie.”

”Why would I lie to you?” Spyro snarled while panting to endure the rising pain.

 

“Why wouldn't you?” The voice replied, and then issued a quick train of thought before resuming. “Ah, yes, you have a hero complexion, a standard for truth and justice amongst the realms. But then again, everyone inherits a dark side from within themselves. My father has found that out from experience.”

 

“Your father?”

 

“Yes, my father. He was once a bringer of good amongst our land, thus providing him a title of a king. Or more thoroughly, the ape king.”

 

Despite the pain, Spyro's eyes widened in shock upon the comment.

 

`The ape king? It can't be.'

But Spyro wasn't sure on that fact.

 

“Your father was the ape king?” He asked, his expression intact.

 

“Yes. I believed you have met him.”

 

Then, the memories of a familiar face resurfaced at the core of Spyro's mind.

”Gaul.” He absent-mindedly spoke.

 

Then, he screamed in excruciating pain as two spears were impaled to his two hind legs, issuing the same results as his right hand.

 

Grunting and panting, Spyro struggled to endure the pain while the silhouette made his approach towards the light.

 

“Yes, Gaul, the ape king.”

 

As the mysterious silhouette made its presence to the light, Spyro took in a shocking sight.

”My father.”

 

Standing before him was Lord Dargaul, the dragon hunter. This creature was the spitting image of his father, minus the crown on his head. He had red piercing eyes with a vertical scar that was visibly present on the left eye, dark hair, small nostril, and an outstretched maw where his sharp teeth were seen at the end. He also has a muscular figure, and a hardened armor from shoulder to toe. The only thing that wasn't protected was his head. He was equipped with two gauntlets on both wrists, and a belt buckle around his waist that withheld some daggers and a steel whip.

”My God. You're his son, aren't you?”

 

With an inward growl of distaste to Spyro, Dargaul issued a curt nod.

 

“Permit me to introduce myself. I am Dargaul, Lord Dargaul, the dragon hunter. And it has finally been a pleasure to meet the acquaintance of the dragon who has taken my father away from me.”

 

“What…?” Spyro began to ask upon confusion.

 

Then, he remembered. He remembered how he has destroyed Gaul by use of the power of darkness. It was something that Spyro has ultimately regretted from time to time.

Upon that memory, Spyro grew in horrified shock, but then thought about what was said to him earlier in the fortress.

 

“Shadow of your past.” He whispered. “Oh, God.”

 

“God has nothing to do with this, my purple victim. You did.”

 

“No, you don't—“ Spyro started in a desperate attempt to reason with him before he once again issued a cry of pain.

 

Another javelin spear was impaled to his left hand with the same results and once again, Spyro managed to endure it in order to keep from passing out.

 

While doing so, Dargaul, with a snarling expression on his face, veered towards the purple dragon until he was to his face.

 

“I don't what? Understand? What I don't understand is this: Why my father has to die by the likes of you? I pondered this for years until it grew to the point of frustration. Frustration, which leads to an extreme undying hatred, and HATRED, which leads to vengeance.”

He grew silence for a while to catch his breath before he withdrew himself from the purple dragon's face and resumed.

 

“From that day forward, I swore by the blood of my father that I would not rest until I have slaughtered every single dragon in every realm. Most importantly, I would not rest until I have seized the one held responsible for my father's death. You.”

 

To say that this hunter was driven by extreme fury and hatred was an understatement to Spyro, but the purple dragon has yet to tell his side of the story.

 

Swallowing saliva, Spyro managed to speak.

 

“Dargaul, do you think I had any control over what I did to him, especially when I was consumed by a shroud of darkness?”

 

“Yet, you've provided no restraint.”

 

“Listen to me, goddamn it!! Your father was a servant to a powerful being known as the Dark Master, who happens to be a dragon!”

 

“Silence.”

 

“He was influenced by the Dark Master's powers!”

 

“SILENCE!!” He bellowed before stepping back and impaling another spear to Spyro's left wing, providing a scream of pain from the purple dragon.

 

The pain was excruciating enough to reduce Spyro to tears, but regardless of that fact, he managed to endure it before casting his gaze to the hunter.

 

“Darkness can be the most powerful influential thing in the realms. I tried to control my actions, but I couldn't. I lost control.”

”Then, you and I have something in common.”

 

“What do you mean?”

 

“You claim that you lost control over your actions upon that…darkness, so have I due to my undying hatred.”

 

As Spyro watched, Dargaul reached over to his belt bucket to reveal, to the purple dragon's horrific shock, a silver spear.

 

The spear had dry blood stained to it. Spyro recognized it as the blood of his befallen lover, Cynder. Then, the memories resurfaced on the tragedy that led him to the brink of grief, despair and solitude. Horror, shock, and tears were present to the purple dragon's face upon this revelation.

 

“You.” His voice broke as he spoke. “You did it. You took her from me.”

 

Silence, with an inward growl issuing from his maw, Dargaul spoke without a hint of sympathy in them.

 

“A life for a life. Tell me, how does it feel? The hurt, the pain, and the anguish. How does it feel?”

 

Silence, Spyro lowered his head from the hunter's gaze and recalled every tragic event that happened. Between Gaul's death by his hands, Cynder's death, and his want for death, the whole experience was enough to make the purple dragon nauseated to his stomach.

 

“How does it feel? It feels like hell having to wake up every single day of every single night of every single month to be reminded of it.” Spyro spoke.

 

“My thoughts exactly.”

 

“But what you don't seem to understand is that I have learned to cope with the mistakes of the past and look on to the future.” He said before he issued a slow, hateful glare to the hunter in front of him. “But that's never going to happen because of you. Because of you, you have taken someone dear to me. And I will never forgive you for that.”

 

“It is like I said, my thoughts exactly.”

 

“You told me that your father was once a bringer of good and was labeled a king. Do you think that by killing our kind that you'll honor your father? Huh?”

 

“Silence.”

 

“Do you really—“

 

Instantly, Spyro issued a scream of pain while another spear was impaled to his right wing.

 

“I said, SILENCE!” He shouted as Spyro's blood trailed from his injuries and tainted the floor. “Now I'm wasting my time with you. I have a dragoness to see.”

 

Spyro was almost on the verge of passing out from blood loss, but prevented himself from doing so while panting heavily. Then, he caught earshot of what the hunter spoke of.

'Glacia.'

 

“Dargaul, y-you lay a hand on her, and I swear to God, I will end you myself, you dirty rotten piece of garbage. Do you understand me?! I will end you!”

 

Dargaul approached and veered closer to Spyro's face.

 

“Not before I end you first.”

Then, Spyro grunted painfully as a dagger was shoved into his midsection, then grunted again while it was plunged deeper.

 

As the purple dragon gagged, the massive blood was not only gushing its way from his midsection, but it was seeping from his mouth as well.

 

Spyro's face was etched with horror as Dargaul twisted the dagger in the midsection to apply more excruciating pain and left it impaled in that position before speaking.

 

“Say hello to your beloved for me.” He whispered.

 

As Dargaul made his leave from the room, Spyro coughed up blood as he felt shivers in his body.

'So cold, so weak.”

 

With a weak moan, Spyro slowly passed out into the slumber of death as blood leaked from his multiple injuries. But the question remains: Was the purple hero truly dead?